As Ratty from Kenneth Graham’s Wind in the Willows, once said to his friend Mole, “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats”. And Ratty is definitely onto something: to be on the water in any kind of craft can be restful an extremely therapeutic – except possibly when you are sailing with James!
We finally met up in Lagos marina on Friday lunchtime after an interesting and unscheduled tour of Lagos old town, and several phone calls to Nicky. The street names kept showing on Google Maps that we were in Brazil! But eventually we arrived, and were warmly welcomed on board to find that Nick and James had very kindly given us their own cabin for the duration of our stay. The boat was very impressive, and we were surprised to find how spacious and comfortable it was – we even had our own ensuite! Having lived in Gibraltar and Spain for many years, even the ritual of la toilette didn’t phaze us one bit!
As we always do when meeting up with Nick and James, we immediately cracked open the beers and some very acceptable vinho verde, and proceeded to have a long catch-up about their amazing trip. Sometime around 7pm, (or it may have been 8) we thought we should probably go out and partake of some solids, so we disembarked and set out for a highly recommended local fish restaurant located in a big warehouse-type place. Low on ambiance but packed to the rafters and with great (and very reasonably priced) food, the queue stretched around the block, and we were lucky to get a table. Unfortunately, as they were so busy, service was understandably slow, leaving us with no choice but to have even more wine, so we cannot even tell you what we ate, or indeed what time or even how we got back to the boat! Safe to say, though, it was all delicious, and a good evening was had by all.
The next morning, we staggered out onto the deck to find James and Nicky in much the same state as ourselves, although James was slightly less hungover as he had prepared and excellent breakfast for all of us.
The plan for that day was to leave the safety of the marina and to do some proper sailing up to Cabo San Vincente, on the most south-westerly corner of Portugal, and to moor up for the night at sea in a secluded, scenic bay. Never having been on a boat before, (apart from a few cross-channel ferries, a fully-crewed Turkish gulet and catamaran in the BVI) we clearly required a bit of training. Well OK, a lot.
Donna sensibly burrowed into the deepest recess of the seats on deck, clutching Tobydog by his carrying handle (rather like an expensive handbag). However, Howard was more gung-ho, and was given the responsibility of steering Seastar while James gave well-meaning instruction. This partnership was met with mixed success: imagine someone receiving instructions on how to land a plane:
- ‘Slow engine speed’ (how?)
- ‘Flaps down’ (er wait a minute!)
- ‘Wings level’ (oh fuck!)
…and straight to
5. ‘why the f*&k didn’t you put the wheels down?’ – (because no-one told me about 4!!!)
In a sailing context – and indeed any potentially tricky manoeuvre in any vehicle – an novice really needs step 4 as well! James is a talented, instinctive sailor, and has a real gift. Turns out we do not!
After quite a bit of sailing west, attempting to tack with the wind, and ‘turn’, ‘come about’ or ‘belay’ or whatevs, pulling on all the wrong lines, sheets and ropes (oh no the only rope is on the dinner-bell) and turning a wheel that certainly does not respond like a car, James decide that it was all just too embarrassing to bear, and what would all the other captains think of him?, so we were humiliatingly stood down (fired ☹), and James and first mate Nicky took control and sailed us into a sheltered bay for the night.
After anchoring and tying-up – a surprisingly complex procedure – the boys gathered-up a cross-legged Toby and set off for the beach and a walk (beers in a bar) while Nick and Donna got started on the paella (and the wine). Donna was on chopping duty and had to concentrate hard not to chop her own fingers off as the boat gently rolled with the tide. She has obviously got better sealegs than she thought because she managed not to barf and only had to go up on deck for fresh air once or twice! The paella was simmering nicely, and it was dark o’clock before Toby and the boys came back. We heard an almighty splash and a faint cry of “man overboard”, which we all knew without looking would be Howard! Impressively, although submerged, he managed to throw his man-bag, complete with wallet and two mobile phones inside – up out of the sea and onto the deck without the water having tine to penetrate it. Heaving him back onboard took a bit longer…. H could not completely swear beyond reasonable doubt that James hadn’t either pushed him in or at the least deliberately crashed the dinghy onto the back of the boar, sending him flying.
After Howard had dried off, we ate our delicious paella, and then played Canasta until the early hours, with only a bit of squabbling from one of the losing side (James).
The next morning saw the sun shining most hotly (sic). We girls positioned ourselves for some R&R and some sunbathing, being most careful to avoid sitting on the various cleats, sheets, bobbins, zonkwhistlepipes and generally any uncomfortable objects guaranteed to cause injury. We had a pleasant and reasonably uneventful sail back to the marina, apart from when we were nearly back in harbor and had to cross a flagged-off, competition area of racing boats, when Howard’s steering ability was loudly challenged by James, with vocabulary vocally relating to reproduction and defecation. Chugging into the harbour we had an unwanted and mildly worrying moment or three, when another yacht apparently had fan-belt trouble and was left drifting around uncontrollably, and almost ran into our rear end, it was a near miss, a breach of maritime etiquette, and we were most relieved ie to finally moor up safely. James may or may not have gone and ‘had a word’ with their crew.
That evening we went for a wander with Toby into the old streets of Lagos, and despite it being a bit commercial, touristy, and very crowded we found a great little restaurant, and feasted on calamari, seabass, steaks and pork – as well as copious amounts of the local vinho!
Monday, sadly, was our last full day in Lagos, but we had really saved the best ‘til last: on one of his previous walks with El Tobos, James had come across a restaurant with the most amazing food and spectacular view. Set right on the edge of a cliff above Aljezur, restaurant O Paulo, is right next to the ruins of Da Fortaleza da Arrifana, and it looks down upon the treacherous seas pounding onto the rocks by Cabo San Vincente, and a long sandy beach where the surfers congregate.
We feasted upon scallops au gratin, the freshest tuna carpaccio, and prawns, followed by a poor, executed-to-order lobster, to share, a massive turbot, a seabass and a classic Portuguese Cataplana. We ate until we could eat no more and then returned to the boat in a taxi for more wind and cards.
This was a seriously, high-quality long-weekend, with all of the perfect ingredients: boats, adventure, history, culinary delights, pissartistry, Canasta, comedy, and camaraderie.
A wonderful sail – literally to the ends of the earth, which is what Vasco da Gama called Cabo San Vicente, (and we were nowhere near Nigeria at any time)
As for us, we went from “wow! We need to buy a boat” to “well maybe not a sail boat, but motor boat!” to “ Well we could rent a motor boat” to “We ain’t never owning or renting a boat!!”
So we just realized that we are not natural sailors, that it is quite hard work sailing, and very expensive to maintain a boat, and that (shame) we are too lazy!
Having said that – we are really looking forward to next year when Seastar and Los Holes will sail along down to our neck of the woods via Sevilla, Cadiz, Tarifa and La Cala de Mijas, and we have also reserved a few days onboard with them when they make it to Corsica and Sicily in future.
We love you guys, and that was a really special few days. Thank you so much for you generosity, love, and enduring friendship.
Sea Star goes South 